


Death by Sexile (Isn't That Bad)

by katehicky (chaoticdeadshot)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff, M/M, sick!stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-10
Updated: 2013-02-10
Packaged: 2017-11-28 21:00:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/678839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaoticdeadshot/pseuds/katehicky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not like Stiles's never been sexiled before- he just doesn't always appreciate it. Like right now.</p><p>"Scott, you dick! Bros before hos- you're breaking the code!"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Stiles is fucking freezing by the time he gets back to the dorms. It had been fine when he had left for classes; the sun had been warm on his face, a welcome reprieve from the crappy winter weather they had been having lately. He had thought, maybe, that this little ray of sun had been the start of an early spring. 

He lives in northern California. He should have known better.

It started snowing towards the end of his first class, and by the time he gets out of his third class hours later, there’s a good 4 inches waiting for him and his crappy sneakers. It takes about five minutes for his shoes and socks to be completely soaked through, and another ten for the wetness to start seeping through his sweatshirt and tee. His hood really doesn’t do anything to help- his hair’s damp when he finally makes it back, along with the rest of him. 

All he wants is a hot shower, a cup of noodles, and sleep. So, with his astounding streak of luck, it really isn’t a surprise that when he finally gets to the room, the door is locked. 

“Scott, you dick, open up!” he shouts as he bangs on the door with his fists. It isn’t the first time he’s been sexiled, and normally he’d understand. Allison Argent is smart, funny, hot, and an upperclassman to boot; the fact that she even looked Scott’s way was some sort of miracle. So he understood, he totally did- he just didn’t always appreciate it. Like tonight. 

He can hear a thumping sound of something hitting the door- probably a shoe or something- and hears a muffled “Come back in an hour!”. Stiles stares at the door in disbelief for a few seconds before hitting the door a few more times and yelling “Bros before hos! You’re breaking the code!” The only response he gets is silence, so he kicks the door for good measure (stubbing his toe in the process- his shoes suck, seriously) and then makes his way back downstairs to the common room to wait it out.

There’s a few people down there, but he still manages to get his favorite seat on the couch over in the corner. It’s like an undesignated quiet area, the corner- he goes and does his homework or studying there when his room is too loud or off limits. A couple of guys have taken over the couch on the other side of the room, their Xbox hooked up for a Halo marathon, but they don’t acknowledge Stiles, and he doesn’t acknowledge them. He just sits in his spot- probably soaking the cushions with melted snow, but he’s too tired to care- and takes out his laptop, determined to at least get something done while he’s stuck down here. 

He starts reading an online lecture about southern secession for his Civil War class; normally he’d be interested (he’s not a history major for nothing), but he can’t concentrate at all, wet and miserable and sniffling every few minutes. The beginning of it processes, but he quickly finds himself near the end of his reading and realizes he hasn’t absorbed anything. He tries to read it again, and again- he’s determined to get this done, even if it’s a hopeless cause. He has to read it, he has a quiz tomorrow, so he’s gonna read this, even if this kills him....

He must have dozed off at some time, because one minute he’s trying to read about General Lee and the next he’s opening his eyes and looking at the guy who’s shaking his shoulder a bit. A really gorgeous looking guy, who’s looking at him expectingly, like he’s waiting for an answer.

“I’m sorry, what?” Stiles asks (slurs, really- there’s probably a bit of drool on his chin as well, as if this wasn’t embarrassing enough).

“I asked if you were okay. You’re not looking too good.” 

It takes him a few seconds to catch up with everything (wet clothes, dick friend, crick in his neck, and yup, that’s definitely drool on his chin) before he says, “Yeah, man, I’m good. I’m actually awesome. Thanks for waking me up, by the way- I definitely would’ve slept through my morning class. I better get back to my room.” He gathers his stuff as he talks, and finally gets up from his spot.

Only to sit right back down- the world’s obviously been drinking while he was out, cause it’s fucking swaying all over the place. “On second thought, this seat is terribly comfy. I think I’ll stay here for a bit,” Stiles says lightly, trying to keep his body from listing to the side, clutching at the seat cushions with clenched fists.

Hot Guy frowns at him before sitting down next to him and, without any real warning, moves in close to press the back of his hand to Stiles’ forehead. He flinches back a bit, because _hello personal space_ , but otherwise he really can’t complain about the whole bubble invasion that’s going on. Dude’s got some amazing eyes, this awesome combination of green and hazel, and maybe he’s wearing cologne or something, but his smell is pretty awesome, too, a musky earth smell that Stiles wishes he could bottle up.

“You’re hot,” the guy says as he removes his hand.

“Why, thank you, you’re pretty smokin’ yourself.”

He gets a glare for that, but Stiles thinks that he might have seen a hint of a  smile for half a second there. “I meant you’re running a fever. Bit of a high one, too, I’m guessing.” Stiles hums in agreement, tilting his head back and closing his eyes for a second. He really just wants to get to bed at this point; he’s exhausted. “No, come on, time to get up. I’ll help you back to your room.” 

A warm hand takes a hold of his clammy one; Stiles opens his eyes to see Hot Guy getting up and staring down at him, waiting for him to move. He groans a bit before he rocks himself forward; he’s really rather glad his new friend pulls him the rest of the way up, because he’s pretty sure he would’ve face-planted into the carpet otherwise. He stumbles a bit once he’s on his feet, but the hand moves to hold onto his upper arm, getting a better grip on him and keeping him in place.

It’s a slow walk back to his room. Even though Stiles had told him he could make it on his own, he’s glad Hot Guy had decided to stay with him (“You’re kidding, right? You can’t even walk straight. Now what floor are you on?”). He was probably gonna get a bruise on his arm from where the guy was holding onto him, but he knows he never would have made it back on his own. On the way up he explains why he was sleeping in the lounge in the first place, and jokes about how he’s going to print out and laminate the Bro Code to hang up in the room as a reminder to his friend. Hot Guy frowns when he hears what happened, and for a minute Stiles wonders if maybe the guy is actually annoyed at Scott for what he did- but then he realizes that he’s never seen Hot Guy ever do anything other than frown, so he dismisses the idea quickly.

When they finally get to his door, Stiles gives the guy a grateful smile. “Thanks for helping me out, man- I don’t know what would’ve happened if you hadn’t rescued me from the couch.”

“Do you have tylenol in there?” he asks quietly as Stiles fishes through his pockets to find his key card.

“Yup, got it. I’ll take two or three, catch some zzz’s and I’ll be good to go in the morning.”

“Don’t push yourself- if you still don’t feel well, don’t go to class. Last thing you need is to make this worse and then spread it to everyone else.”

Stiles stops at that to look at Hot Guy, and he’s surprised to see that he actually looks a bit concerned. He smiles at him again, maybe a little softer this time. “I promise, I’ll go take some pills and head straight to bed. If I still have a fever in the morning, I’ll skip classes for the day. Scout’s honor.” He slips the card into the slot, and gives a sigh of relief when he hears the bolt unlock. “Really, thank you- uhhh....”

“Derek.”

“Right. Thank you, Derek. I, uh, guess I’ll see you around then. Night.”

“Night, Stiles.” And with that, Derek turns around and heads back towards the elevator.

Once he’s inside, he strips off his wet clothes (vindictively throwing his stuff on top of a snoozing Scott- he snorts and swats in Stiles’ general direction before rolling over and begins to snore), throws on a pair of sweats, takes three tylenol and finally falls into bed, rolling around to cocoon himself in his comforters. It’s only when he’s drifting off that he realizes that he never told Derek his name, but then the thought is gone, and so is he.

 


	2. Chapter 2

When his alarm goes off the next morning, Stiles knows that he’s not going to class that day. His body is achey and tired, and as he searches for a thermometer his dad packed somewhere, he lets out a deep, grating cough that seems to rip his chest in half and scrapes at his throat. After he finally finds the thermometer and takes his temperature, he groans when the the thing beeps and tells him he’s a roasty 101.4.

 

“You sick?” Scott asks from the bathroom door, mouth full of oatmeal. Stiles can’t help but glare at him, just a little- it was kind of Scott’s fault to begin with- but then deflates and just nods his head. “Dude, that sucks. Do you want me to ask Danny to get you the work from your honors class?” Stiles just nods again as he uncaps the tylenol bottle and pours another three pills out into his palm. He swallows them down with tap water, and then shuffles back to his bed, crawling in and sighing at the feeling of cool sheets against his skin. Scott grabs his ankle and gives it a squeeze, asking “You gonna be okay?” with concern.

 

“I’m just gonna try to sleep it off- I’ll be okay. Now get going before you miss your math quiz.” Scott curses and jumps to action at that, running to stuff his backpack with his stuff and grab his jacket before heading for the door. “And don’t forget to ask Danny for the work!” he shouts after him, but all he gets in response is a slammed door that makes his head throb a little bit. Chances are Scott’s going to forget, but the fact that he offered in the first place makes Stiles smile before he rolls over and drifts off again.

 

-x-

 

The next time he wakes is to the sound of someone knocking on the door a few hours later. He groans a bit before rolling out of bed, and grumbles a bit as he shuffles to the door.

 

“Scott, how many times have I told you not to forget your key? I even put a reminder on the door so we wouldn’t have to do this every day. Next time I’m locking your ass-”

 

But it’s not Scott standing there when he opens the door. It’s Derek, with a plastic bag and papers in one hand and the other hand raised to knock on the door again.

 

“-out. Derek, hi. Uh, sorry about that.” Stiles rubs the back of his head in embarrassment and laughs a little, which becomes a hacking cough that leaves hunched over a bit and a little breathless. “Sorry,” he coughs out, covering his mouth with a fist.

 

“I was going to ask you if you were feeling better, but it’s pretty obvious that you’re not. Are you okay?”

 

“Yeah, no, I’ll live. I just, uh- you didn’t have to check up on me. I mean, it’s great!” he says quickly when he sees Derek’s shoulders droop a little. “That’s really nice of you, to check up on me, after what you did last night, really great. But, like, why?”

 

“Well you weren’t in Calc this morning, so I figured you’d want the notes since we have a test coming up and everything,” he explained as he lifted the papers up.

 

“You- you’re Derek Hale. From my Calc II class. Oh man, that totally went right over my head, I’m so sorry.” Stiles felt like a complete idiot. This was his classmate helping him out when he was sick, and he hadn’t even remembered his name. He felt like a total douche.

 

“It’s really okay- I sit behind you most of the time anyway. I never remember the people who sit behind me- it’s no big deal.”

 

“Still, I’m really sorry. Thank you for the notes.”

 

“I uh.” Now Derek’s ducking his head down, and- is he blushing? “When you didn’t show up, I realized you were probably still sick. So, uh- here.” He thrusts the plastic bag at Stiles without looking up, cheeks still pink with blush. Stiles took it, confused, and looked at Derek quickly before opening the bag and looking inside. 

 

There’s a couple of different colored gatorades in there, a combo box of Dayquil/Nyquil, a travel tissue pack, some saltine cracker packets, and a big styrofoam cup of-

 

“You got me soup?”

 

“Yeah. Chicken noodle. I mean, you shouldn’t go out in the cold, which means no dining hall, and liquids are really important when you’re sick, you have to keep hydrated, so I just-”

 

Derek rambles on, explaining the importance of electrolytes and how he wasn’t sure which flavor he liked so he just got one of each classic, but Stiles isn’t really paying attention. His insides are kind of warm and fuzzy at the moment; nobody’s taken care of him like this in a long time, not since he was nine. He’s always taken care of himself. But here’s Derek, bringing him hot soup and medicine and making sure he’s drinking his fucking electrolytes, and maybe it’s weird, but Stiles has never wanted to jump someone’s bones so bad in his life.

 

“Dude,” he blurts out, cutting Derek off, “if I wasn’t sick and probably contagious, I would totally kiss you right now.”

 

And cue his own blush, because _oh my god did he actually just say that out loud?_

 

“Uh, I mean, like metaphorically kiss you. Cause I wouldn’t kiss you, cause that would be weird, right? Right. And I’m sure you’re girlfriend wouldn’t appreciate it either. Unless you don’t have a girlfriend. Maybe you have a boyfriend? Because that would totally be fine, too. Not to say that you’re gay! Which is fine, if you are, I’m totally okay with tha-”

 

He knows he’s blabbering, just digging himself in a deeper hole, but he can’t stop until there’s suddenly a pair of lips on his and _Derek Hale is kissing him_. Their noses bump against each other awkwardly at first, and Derek’s beard scritches his face a bit, but this is the most amazing kiss Stiles has ever had. He hasn’t done much kissing in the past, he’s definitely not the most skilled smoocher, but he’s giving himself a solid A for effort, moving his lips against Derek’s and nipping his lips here and there (which seems to be driving Derek slightly insane, so he’s just gonna keep doing that).

 

Eventually they stop kissing in Stiles’s doorway, both slightly breathless as they stared at each other. It’s obvious that Stiles brain is a little fried, because instead of saying _that was awesome, we should do that again sometime, you’re kind of ridiculously hot and I can’t believe you just kissed me,_ Stiles says, “Dude, you are totally going to get sick now.”

 

Derek, bless his heart, only says “Worth it” before ducking his head to kiss Stiles again.

 

-x-

 

In an unsurprising turn of events, Derek is sick two days later. Stiles goes to his room bearing notes from Calc, an opened box of Dayquil/Nyquil, a couple of yellow gatorades, a huge styrofoam cup of tomato soup and a grilled cheese sandwich. 

 

When they’re both over their bouts of sickness, they decide to give Scott a taste of his own medicine. Stiles can’t help but smile when when he hears his roommate banging on the locked door, and feels victorious as he groans especially loud in response.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm on tumblr- capt-buckybarnes


End file.
